The Boy Next Door
by It'sNotEasyBeingQueen
Summary: Kurt is on a self-imposed dating hiatus. Blaine is the new guy across the hall whom he is determined to ignore. But when some odd comings and goings at Blaine's apartment make Kurt think he might be engaging in an unsavory profession, he might not be able to ignore him after all. Alternate first meeting in NYC.
1. You Keep A-Knockin'

**You Keep A-Knockin'**

 _A/N: Kurt is intrigued by the new guy who has moved into his building. However, some odd comings and goings lead Kurt to believe that the new neighbor might be in a rather unsavory profession._

Kurt was never happier than when the residents of 5B moved out. They were rude, loud, and had the absolute worst sense of fashion (if Kurt had seen the guy in socks and sandals _one more time_ …). He was curious as to who the new tenant would be. Rumor had it that the apartment had been leased to a single man, early to mid-20's, and rather cute, if Mrs. Moskowitz in 3F was to be believed. She'd mentioned the cute part last, and had given Kurt a wink, adding in her usual, unsubtle way that perhaps he could be Kurt's new special man. Bless her heart, at 82 she was always trying to set Kurt up with one guy or another. Sometimes they were even gay.

Kurt had no time for such thoughts. No. After a string of unusually horrible first dates, he'd imposed a dating hiatus. He didn't care how cute or eligible 5B was. Now was the time to focus on himself. He was doing well at Vogue. He had moved to this apartment near Midtown, happy to be closer to work than when he'd been rooming with Rachel in Bushwick. As of three weeks ago, he started writing his first novel, working in the evenings when his creativity was at its peak. Yes, now was Kurt Hummel's time, and woe betide any hot young bachelor in 5B who tried to get in his way.

xoxoxo

 _Knock knock knock_

Kurt almost jumped up at the sound until he realized that the knocking was being done on the door across the hall – the infamous 5B. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was nearly 11:00 p.m. He raised an eyebrow at the hour, thinking it was rather late for a visitor, then he shook it off and went back to his writing. It was none of his concern what 5B did, after all.

He had gotten a couple of quick glimpses at the man (whom he still called 5B in his head because they hadn't spoken and he didn't know his name). He didn't know if Mrs. Moskowitz was right about him being single, but he certainly was cute. He was a little shorter than Kurt, but a little broader, too, weth well-toned arms that were muscular but not in a bulky way. He had dark, curly hair and the most adorable triangular eyebrows. Kurt hadn't gotten a very good look at his eyes, but they appeared to be hazel - maybe just a little brighter than that. He dressed well, too – the last time Kurt saw him, he was wearing a well-fitted black polo and tight red pants that hugged his…

Kurt shook his head and cleared his throat. No, he did not have time to spend mooning over the hot guy across the hall (yes, he'd moved from _cute_ to _hot_ at some point). 5B was off limits.

Kurt heard the door across the hall open and a quiet greeting being exchanged before the door closed again. He had become accustomed to the thin walls of the building and usually didn't notice the sounds from the hallway, but perhaps his thoughts about the new resident made him more aware than usual. With a shrug, he went back to writing. He could get another hour in at least before he absolutely had to stop and get to bed.

Just as he was closing down his laptop, he heard the door across the hall open again. Hmm. Apparently, the late-night visitor wasn't staying. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was now 12:15 a.m. – time for him to make his way to bed if he wanted to get any sleep. So long as his new neighbor didn't make too much noise, he could have all the late-night visitors he wanted, as far as Kurt was concerned.

xoxoxo

Okay, so maybe Kurt changed his tune a little over the next couple of weeks regarding 5B's visitors. The late visits weren't the exception, they were the rule. Almost every night it was the same thing. A couple of knocks, some very quiet chatter, and then the door opening and closing a little over an hour later. On a few occasions, there were _two_ separate visitors in one night – one around 10:30, and another around midnight.

Not that Kurt was keeping track.

His dating embargo meant that he was home alone most nights, which he told himself was just as it should be so that he could work on his novel. He was actually making some progress on that, but he was also finding himself paying an inordinate amount of attention to the noises across the hall. One night, he happened to be near his door when he heard the inevitable knocking. Without thinking twice about it, he rushed to the door and peered out the little peephole which gave him a perfect view of the door directly across the hall. Just as he looked, the door opened and he saw 5B smiling as he greeted a petite Asian woman with a hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Hey there, handsome," the woman drawled, squeezing 5B's bicep that was gloriously on display in the tight t-shirt he was wearing. 5B smirked and laughed, then guided the woman into his apartment with a light touch to the small of her back.

Of course, Kurt thought. Well, he'd have to tell Mrs. Moskowitz she got at least one part of her information wrong. It looked like the cute/hot guy across the hall wasn't playing for his team, after all.

But wait a minute, Kurt thought as he wandered away from the door and over to the kitchen to get a cup of tea. What kind of guy has his girlfriend come over at this time of night for an hour?

Oh, ew.

Trying to put the neighbor's apparent booty call out of his mind, he went back to work on his book. This – _this_ was why he wasn't dating anymore, he reminded himself with a disbelieving shake of his head.

He ignored the sound of the door across the hall opening a little over an hour later. He really tried to ignore it when he thought about the times over the past few weeks when he'd heard a second knock on the door. He seriously didn't want to think about that at all.

xoxoxo

 _Knock knock knock_

There was no logical reason why Kurt should go to look out the peephole when the knock happened the next night. No reason whatsoever. He had seen what he needed to see yesterday, so he had no expectation of seeing anything different.

Therefore, imagine his surprise when (a) he looked out the peephole anyway, and (b) he was greeted by the sight of a tall blonde man instead of the young lady from the night before. "Wasn't expecting that," he muttered to himself, sending up an apology to Mrs. Moskowitz who was apparently only half wrong.

The door opened, and 5B emerged, smiling once again. He and the blonde man hugged briefly and then entered the apartment. The door remained open for a few seconds as 5B spoke to his visitor about something, and then it closed. In those few seconds, Kurt could have sworn that it looked like the apartment was dimly lit with a bit of flickering light, such as would be thrown off by candles.

Well. It looked like 5B got around.

Finishing up his most recent chapter, Kurt rubbed his eyes and closed his laptop. He stretched a bit, then rose to make his way to bed. He groaned when he realized he hadn't taken the trash out after dinner. Those takeout containers were going to smell awful in the morning. With a sigh, he closed up the bag and walked to the door. With his hand on the doorknob, he froze.

He glanced at the clock – it was just after midnight. Crap. The last thing he wanted to do was to run into 5B and his blonde boy toy in the hall. He waited a moment, trying to decide what to do. He was exhausted, and really didn't want to wait around to see when the festivities across the hall would be over. "Screw it," he said, opening the door.

He stuck his head out first, looking warily up and down the hall. No one was in sight. He slipped out the door and practically ran down the hallway to the trash chute. He deposited the bag, making as little noise as possible, and hurried back towards his apartment. Just as he put the key in the lock, the door of 5B opened.

He rushed inside, but was unable to avoid hearing the conversation of the two men as he did so.

"Again, that was awesome, man," the tall blonde said. "I know I'm gonna feel that tomorrow, but it was soooo good," he went on. Kurt wanted to die.

"Well, you said not to go easy on you. I just gave you what you asked for," the resident of the apartment replied. Kurt was caught between being appalled by the discussion and being entranced by the dreamy voice of 5B. Kurt wasn't a prude by any means, but there was just something creepy about listening to that type of conversation. It made him feel like he needed to bathe.

For the first time in weeks, he missed the guy with the socks and sandals.

xoxoxo

The following week, things escalated.

One of the girls at work had a birthday party. It was nice to get out of the house for a change. He even forgot about 5B, and his variety of visitors. Kurt had fallen into the inexcusable habit of looking out every time someone knocked (disappointed when it was just the pizza or Chinese food delivery guy). So far, he'd seen no fewer than seven different men and women go in and out of 5B's apartment. Clearly, this guy was some kind of sex god, because they were almost literally lining up at his door and coming back repeatedly. It was disturbing.

The party had been fun, and Kurt was happy as he entered his apartment building that night. He stepped into the elevator and pressed the button for his floor. Just as the doors began to slide closed, a hand slipped in, followed by a tall man. He was attractive, with green eyes and chestnut brown hair that was a little too "boy band" for Kurt's liking, but still stylish. The man gave Kurt a smirk then leaned over to press a button. "Oh," he said with surprise, "looks like we're going the same way."

Kurt gave a polite but disinterested smile. Between the second and third floors, a terrible thought hit him. He checked his watch – it was just after 11:00 p.m.

Oh, crap.

The doors opened on the fifth floor and the other man gestured for Kurt to exit first. With a quiet "thank you," Kurt stepped forward and turned towards his apartment. He ventured a glance back and saw the man was right behind him.

Yep. Looked like 5B's visitor of the night had arrived.

For some reason, the whole thing made Kurt nervous. He fumbled for his keys as elevator guy knocked. Kurt dropped his keys altogether, sighing as he picked them up.

"You know, maybe you should go see Blaine," a voice behind him said in a sly tone. Kurt turned around slowly to see the green eyes surveying him with amusement. "He could help you work out some of that _tension_ ," he added with a salacious wink.

Kurt's mouth dropped open in shock. Before he could reply, 5B answered the door.

"Hey, Sebastian," the man said, hugging his visitor in his usual fashion. "Come on in."

"Hey, Killer. I was trying to drum up some new business for you," he said, jerking his head in Kurt's direction as Kurt stood there gaping with his keys in his hand. 5B, or, as Kurt had just learned, _Blaine_ , looked past Sebastian at Kurt.

"Hi," he said, almost shyly, Kurt thought. When Kurt didn't respond, "Come on, Bas. Leave him alone or I'll count this as part of your time," he said, taking Sebastian by the arm and pulling him into the apartment. He gave one last seemingly apologetic smile to Kurt before turning to close the door.

"No way. I'm not paying for you to make heart eyes at the guy across the hall," Kurt heard Sebastian say just before the door shut with a quiet click.

Kurt remained motionless at his own door for a moment longer, then rushed to get inside. He walked over to the couch and practically fell down onto it. He stared at nothing in particular in front of him in the dimly-lit apartment, processing all that he had heard over the past few moments. Putting the pieces together and coming to what seemed to be the only logical conclusion, his heart began to pound. He pulled out his cell phone and dashed off a text message to his former roommate, Rachel, praying she was still awake. He needed to tell someone. Now.

 **To Rachel** : I think the guy in 5B is a prostitute.

 _A/N: Uh oh! Is Blaine really a prostitute working out of the apartment across from Kurt's? Or has Kurt come to the wrong conclusion altogether? Stay tuned to find out! (The story will be three chapters, so you won't have to wait too long!)_


	2. Ay, There's the Rub

**Chapter Two: Ay, There's the Rub**

 _A/N: Last time on "The Boy Next Door": Kurt's new neighbor, Blaine, has a lot of late-night visitors. They only stay for about an hour – and they pay Blaine for the time they spend there. This leads Kurt to one conclusion…_

 **To Rachel** : I think the guy in 5B is a prostitute

Ten seconds later, his phone rang.

"Oh my god, Rachel," he rushed out without so much as a "Hello."

"Kurt, did I read that right? Did auto-correct change your message?" Rachel asked.

"No. You read it right. I think he's a prostitute, Rach."

"Come on, Kurt. Are you sure?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

"Hey," Kurt said defensively. "Didn't I support you when you thought that the woman at the laundromat put a hex on you?"

"That was different, Kurt, and you know it," she retorted. "Anyway, you promised not to bring that up again," she added, sounding a little hurt.

"Sorry."

Rachel sighed on the other end of the line. "So what makes you think he's a prostitute?"

Kurt laid out the facts as he knew them, from the first knock to the conversation he'd just heard.

"Well," Rachel said after he was done, "I don't know if you have a prostitute for a neighbor, but I think Blaine has a stalker for one."

"I am _not_ a stalker, Rachel!" Kurt exclaimed. He immediately looked toward the door when he realized how loudly he'd spoken. After all, if he could hear sounds from the hallway… "I am not a stalker," he repeated in a tone that was more like a stage whisper.

"I don't know," Rachel said teasingly, "you spend an _awful_ lot of time keeping track of who comes and goes from his apartment. You stand there, looking out the peephole watching him, Kurt." When Kurt was quiet, her tone softened. "Okay, so maybe he _is_ sleeping with people for money. Is he bothering you?"

"No," Kurt said sullenly.

"He's a decent neighbor, right? He's polite when you see him, no loud parties, stuff like that?"

"I guess," Kurt conceded. He felt the need to add, "I never thought you'd be so nonchalant about this, Rach."

"Eh, being in New York has made me sophisticated," she said dramatically.

"You date one gigolo and suddenly you're Samantha from _Sex in the City_ ," he quipped.

"I'm ignoring that," she huffed. "I'm not saying I approve, but as long as he isn't doing you any harm, I wouldn't worry about it. It doesn't sound like the people coming to see him are trashy or dangerous-looking, from what you described."

"No," Kurt said, "they seem like relatively nice people, from what I have seen."

"Actually, he must be a pretty high-class hooker if he has regular clients coming to his home. I mean, it's not like he's out on the corner in booty shorts and a mesh tank top."

"Rachel!" Kurt said, scandalized. "Where do you get this stuff?"

Rachel just laughed indulgently. "Sorry, I couldn't help myself. Listen, seriously. Stop worrying about it. Do your job. Work on your book." Taking a more encouraging tone, she added, "Perhaps consider ending your strike against dating and finding someone else to occupy your time."

Kurt thought maybe she was right. God, he hated that.

xoxoxo

 _Knock knock knock_

Kurt almost didn't get up until he realized the knocking was at his own door, not Blaine's. He looked at the clock – it was a little after 8:00 p.m. He wasn't expecting anyone. Huh.

Rising and crossing to the door, he looked out the peephole before opening it. His breath caught in his throat when he saw Blaine standing on the other side. A wave of panic surged through his stomach as Blaine knocked again. With a deep breath, he thought about what Rachel had said, and realized that Blaine really had been nothing but a good neighbor so far, and seemed like a nice enough person. He probably had no real reason to be concerned about opening the door. Right?

With a hand that he would deny was trembling, he unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hi," Blaine greeted him with a friendly grin. He was holding two grocery bags.

"Hi," Kurt answered tentatively.

"Um, I hate to ask," Blaine said, shifting one of the bags on his hip, "but I am hoping you can help me out. I locked myself out of the apartment and my cell is dead. Can I use your phone to call the building manager?"

Kurt blinked owlishly for a second, processing Blaine's words while trying not to be overcome by how incredibly handsome he was. This was the first actual conversation they'd had. He finally got a good look at Blaine's eyes, and felt his heartbeat pick up just a bit at the golden shade of hazel that practically sparkled, even in the dull light of the apartment building hallway.

The hallway. Right. Blaine was standing in the hallway with groceries asking to use his phone and waiting for an answer.

"Yeah – yes, of course," he finally stammered out, stepping aside and waving an arm towards the room. "Please come in," he said, hoping his voice didn't sound as shaky to Blaine as it did in his own head.

"Thanks," Blaine answered gratefully, passing Kurt and entering the apartment. Kurt closed the door behind him and took a deep breath to calm his inexplicable nerves. _It's not like you've never had a man in your apartment_ , he admonished himself. _Yes, but you've never had a…_

He spun around when he heard Blaine clear his throat tentatively, as if trying to remind Kurt he was there.

"My phone," Kurt said absently, slipping his phone out of his pocket and holding it out before realizing that Blaine's arms were still full of grocery bags. "Oh, here," he said, pocketing the phone and reaching out. "You can put those here," he said, taking one bag and leading Blaine the few steps to the small kitchen table.

Blaine's smile was genuine and charming. "Thanks, Kurt," he said.

Kurt smiled in return and pulled out his phone again. "I've got the manager's number in here," he said, scrolling through his contacts as a thought hit him. He looked sharply up at Blaine. "How'd you know my name?"

"Mrs. Moskowitz, 3F," he replied with a wink. Kurt nodded an "of course" and handed over his phone with the manager's contact information on the screen. He then blushed madly as he wondered what in the world Mrs. Moskowtiz had told Blaine about Kurt. "I'm Blaine, by the way," he added, holding out his right hand.

Kurt took the hand offered and shook it. It was warm, and strong, and absolutely did not give Kurt a fluttery feeling in his stomach. "I know," he blurted out. When Blaine arched an adorable triangular eyebrow in response, Kurt finished hesitantly, "Um, the other night in the hall…your, um, fr-friend, Sebastian, I think? He called you Blaine."

"Oh, right," Blaine responded without a hint of embarrassment at the memory of their run-in. He then turned his attention to the phone when the building manager finally answered.

A few moments later, he finished the call and returned the phone to Kurt. "Well," he said with a sigh, "it looks like it will be a little while before I get into my place. The manager is at another building right now, and won't be able to make it here for a couple of hours. He said I could call a locksmith, but I'd have to pay for that out of my own pocket, and at this hour, there's no guarantee a locksmith would get here any sooner. Plus, since it's after hours, it would cost me a fortune." He ran a hand through his unfairly gorgeous, curly hair.

"I hate to ask," he continued, looking up at Kurt guiltily, "but I have some dairy and cold stuff in my grocery bags. Could I maybe," he faltered, gesturing toward the refrigerator.

"Absolutely! I've got plenty of room," he said, hustling the bags off the table and setting them down on the counter before opening the refrigerator. "Is it okay if I…" he trailed off, motioning towards the bags before removing anything.

"Sure, that would be great. Thanks so much. I really appreciate it," he said gratefully.

"No problem," Kurt replied, quickly unpacking and storing the necessary items in his refrigerator. Organic milk, juice, a couple of nice cheeses and fruit – the guy ate pretty well for someone who…Kurt cut off that line of thought immediately.

Closing the fridge, he turned back to his guest, who was looking around the apartment with interest. "This is a really nice place you have here," he said with admiration. "I haven't had much time to decorate yet, but you've done a great job with a small space."

"Thanks," Kurt answered with a smile. He had worked hard to make his tiny apartment seem homey and inviting. It hadn't been easy.

"So, I, um…" Blaine muttered, seeming to find it difficult to find his words. "Look, I don't want to be an imposition. I can just chill out in the hall while I wait for the manager. I've got my iPod." He retrieved the device from his pocket and started walking toward the door.

"Wait!" Kurt called out, following close behind. "Blaine, wait," he repeated, catching the man by the arm. Blaine turned around, and if Kurt unnecessarily left his hand resting lightly on his arm, Blaine didn't seem to mind. "You don't have to wait in the hall. That's silly. You…you can wait here."

"Kurt, I…" Blaine began to argue.

"It's fine. Really. I'm not going to have you sitting out in that hallway for hours. That's ridiculous."

Blaine rewarded him with a smile that lit up the room. "Kurt, thanks so much. That's so sweet of you."

Kurt gave his own smile in reply. "Come on, have a seat," he answered, leading Blaine over to the couch. "Can I get you something to drink? Have you eaten?" he asked.

"You don't have to…" he was cut off by a look from Kurt. Rubbing the back of his neck, he huffed out a laugh and looked down at the floor momentarily. "No, I haven't had dinner, but I'm fine. Just some water would be great."

Kurt rolled his eyes and went to the kitchen. He chatted with Blaine idly from there (the apartment had an open floor plan, so it was easy to speak between the kitchen area and the living room) and returned to the couch in no time. He had a tray with two sandwiches, salads, and two glasses of iced tea.

"Kurt," Blaine began.

"I hope this is okay," Kurt interjected. "I wasn't expecting company," he said with a shy smile.

"This is fantastic," Blaine replied, his voice soft. "Thank you."

"Oh, I also brought this," Kurt said, holding out his phone charger.

"You're a lifesaver!" Blaine exclaimed. He brought out his phone and Kurt pointed out a nearby outlet where he could plug in. When the phone screen lit up and showed the time, Blaine cursed under his breath. "Sorry," he said sheepishly. "I just realized that I have to cancel an appointment for later. Forgive me, I just have to send a text and I'll put this down, I promise."

Kurt knew that he flushed scarlet at the mention of Blaine's "appointment" but tried to act nonchalant. "That's okay. You don't have to apologize."

"No, no," Blaine answered, his thumbs moving rapidly over the screen. "I make it a point never to text or use my phone when I'm with company. It's just rude."

Kurt couldn't help looking down and smiling. He was "company." Adorable.

"There. All done. Now we can feast," Blaine said, setting aside his phone and picking up his plate from the table.

They ate and talked a little, not really delving into anything too personal. They laughed over their experiences with Mrs. Moskowitz, and Kurt told Blaine about the previous residents of his apartment. Blaine proudly held out his foot and showed Kurt his bare ankle, proudly stating that he almost never wore socks, so Kurt was safe on the whole sock/sandal front.

Finished with dinner, Kurt put his plate down on the table and went to turn toward Blaine, wincing when he felt a sharp pain up the back of his neck.

"Are you okay?" Blaine asked quickly, looking concerned.

"It's fine," Kurt said, rubbing the offending area with one hand and waving Blaine off with the other. "Just a crick that I've developed while I've been writing these past few weeks. Guess my posture isn't the best when I'm hunched over a laptop all night."

"Wow, you're a writer? That's amazing, Kurt."

"Well," Kurt answered shyly, "I'm not a writer _yet_. My actual job is working for Vogue, but I'm trying to write a novel in my spare time."

"I knew it!" Blaine yelled, startling Kurt. "Sebastian owes me twenty bucks!" Taking in Kurt's look of confusion, Blaine explained, "Sorry about that. It was just – when Sebastian and I saw you the other night, I, um…" He fell silent and Kurt noticed his cheeks had pinked a bit.

"You, umm…" Kurt prompted him with an expectant air.

"Well, I told him I thought you were a model. He said you weren't, and he bet me twenty dollars."

Kurt laughed. "I hate to break it to you, but don't go collecting just yet."

"But you said…"

"I said I work for Vogue, which I do - as a journalist, not a model. Sorry." Kurt said with a giggle.

"Well that's a waste," Blaine mumbled. His eyes went wide and he went on, "Oh, lord, was that out loud? I didn't mean…not that being a journalist isn't…it's just you're so…and I just…"

Kurt bit his lip to keep from laughing. He finally put a hand on Blaine's knee to stop his rambling. "Thank you," he said graciously. The two men smiled at each other, and then Blaine thankfully tried to change the subject.

"So anyway, your neck – I could help with that, if you want. It's kind of what I do," he offered.

Kurt looked confused. "I'm sorry, _what_ is kind of what you do?"

"Oh, I don't think we ever got around to talking about my work, did we? I'm a massage therapist, Kurt. I could work that crick out for you if you want."

Kurt's mind whirled. Blaine was a what now?

"You're a massage therapist?" he parroted incredulously.

"Yep. Licensed and everything. I work at a spa nearby." He reached into his pocket and retrieved a business card, handing it over to Kurt. "That's part of why I moved to this part of town. Well, that and my roommate got engaged and there wasn't room for all of us in the apartment anymore. Plus, with my own place now, I have room for a table and I do massages for friends on the side. Don't tell my boss," he said with a guilty look, "or the IRS," he added with a whisper and a wink.

Kurt was reeling, and apparently had lost any filter at all as he asked, "So the people who come see you every night and then leave, they're…massage clients?"

Blaine looked a little taken aback. "Um, how do you know that people come see me?" he asked cautiously.

"The walls are thin, Blaine. I can hear them knock and I can hear when they leave."

Blaine's eyes flew open wide. "Oh, geez, I didn't realize that! I'm so sorry! You must think I'm so inconsiderate. I never realized…I hope I haven't been disturbing you," he said apologetically.

"No, it's no bother. Like I said, I'm up anyway writing." Kurt shifted on the couch, rubbing his sore neck once more.

"Well, that's a relief. Anyway, you were asking about my evening clients. You see, I've got a lot of friends in the theater. The shows can be physically demanding, especially the musicals, and a lot of actors see massage therapists to help keep everything in order. So, I started doing massages for some of my actor friends after their shows. It's helpful sometimes to do it when the muscles are still loose, as opposed to waiting until the next day. I used to have a travel table and go to them, but when I moved here, I was within walking distance of most of the theaters. The table in my apartment is better than a travel table, so they started coming to me. Plus, my apartment affords them more privacy than they would have at the theater. They finish their show, come here, and then go home."

It all seemed so logical. Kurt couldn't believe the conclusion he had jumped to instead. He blushed hard with embarrassment at his error in judgment. All he could hope was that Blaine didn't notice.

"Kurt? Is something wrong?"

Kurt froze. How was he going to get out of this one?

"What? No, no. Everything's fine, Blaine." Blaine gave him a look that indicated he wasn't buying it. Kurt sighed heavily, and decided to go with the truth. "Okay, please, _please_ don't be offended by this, but I kind of thought you had, well, a different thing going on over there," Kurt began. Oh, how was he going to explain this? He should have just kept his mouth shut.

"What kind of _thing_ , Kurt?" Blaine inquired.

"I, uh…" he hesitated, then blurted, "well, you had all these people coming and going. And they never stayed for more than an hour or so. And the blonde guy said he was going to 'feel it tomorrow' and Sebastian said you could 'relieve my tension,'" he said, using air quotes, "and he said he wasn't _paying_ you for the time you spent looking at me, and I just thought," Kurt stopped, hoping he wouldn't have to say it.

After a brief pause, recognition dawned on Blaine's face. "Kurt! You thought I was having sex for money?"

Kurt covered his face with his hands and crashed into the back of the couch. "I know. I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry, Blaine," he said, his words muffled by his hands and the couch cushions. That was it. Blaine was going to be so angry. It would serve him right if he cursed him out then left and never spoke to Kurt again.

Kurt waited a long moment in silence, afraid to look up. Suddenly, he heard a rather undignified snort. Finally daring to look up, he found Blaine sitting with one hand over his mouth, his shoulders shaking as he tried to contain himself.

"I can't believe you thought I was a hooker, Kurt!" he laughed, reaching out and poking Kurt's shoulder playfully. "Really? I mean, _me_?"

Kurt sat up, relaxing when he saw that Blaine wasn't angry. "Well, I didn't know you, did I? How was I supposed to know?"

The two dissolved into a fit of laughter, only stopping when they were interrupted by a knock at the door. Blaine wiped tears from his eyes as Kurt rose to answer the door. It was the building manager, finally arriving to let Blaine into his apartment.

Blaine thanked the rather cranky manager profusely, and then came back across the hall through Kurt's still open door.

"Well," he said with a sigh.

"Yeah," Kurt answered, looking into the beautiful golden eyes that were smiling at him.

"I guess I should get my groceries and let you get back to the rest of your evening," he said, sounding a little sad, if Kurt wasn't mistaken.

The two moved to the kitchen and bagged up the items. Before picking up the bags, Blaine turned to Kurt and held out his hand. Kurt took it willingly, trying not to sigh out loud at how good that hand felt in his.

"I can't thank you enough for helping me tonight. I'm sorry if I spoiled your evening," Blaine said, holding onto Kurt's hand and standing close.

"It was nothing, really." Kurt's voice was soft and a little breathy, thinking that his evening had been far from spoiled.

"Let me make it up to you," Blaine said, stepping a little closer.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. "You don't have to do that," he answered a little shakily.

Blaine smiled that warm, charming smile of his. "I know, but I want to." He released Kurt's hand and gingerly touched the back of Kurt's neck in the place Kurt had been rubbing it before. "I can help with this. Let me work on it and relieve the spasm in that muscle."

Kurt knew his eyes had gone wide. Blaine stepped back and dropped his hand. "Only if you want, Kurt. I don't want to impose, but I think it would do you good and I'd like to repay you for your hospitality. It's what I do. I can help."

Kurt stared into those hazel eyes, looking so sincerely into his own. How could he say no to that?

"Okay," he finally answered, his heart fluttering when Blaine responded with a blinding grin.

"Wonderful," Blaine said brightly. He turned and picked up his grocery bags, then turned back to Kurt. "Give me half an hour."

"W-what? You mean, tonight?" Kurt said, flabbergasted.

"Sure! I don't have an appointment, and you're in pain now. Just give me half an hour to get set up." Blaine started making his way to the door. "Change into something comfortable – nothing too tight or restrictive. When you're ready, come on over." He walked across the hall and turned around, catching Kurt's eye as he entered the open door of his own apartment. "Just knock," he said with a wink before disappearing behind the door, leaving a dumbstruck Kurt in his wake.

 _A/N: Many of you caught the hints in Chapter One and guessed Blaine's profession correctly. You're smarter than Kurt (or at least less paranoid)! For those of you wondering, the chapter title is courtesy of William Shakespeare – you know, the British guy who wrote that play that one time...Just kidding! I adore my Shakespeare! Also, as a disclaimer, I have absolutely no idea whether getting a massage right after a performance would be any more or less beneficial than having it the next day. It's just a plotline to make the story work, so don't take it as medical advice, k? :)_


	3. Lay Your Hands on Me

_A/N: This wasn't really part of the story when I first thought of it, but then the idea came to me and really, how could I NOT write an entire chapter about Blaine giving Kurt a massage? No change of rating here (aka, no smut, but I'd still trade places with Kurt in a heartbeat). I feel a responsibility to add a PSA: Kids, it may not be the wisest thing to accept an offer from a guy you just met to go into his apartment, get half naked, and let him give you a massage. However, this is Klaine fanfiction, so we're in a safe space here…_

The next thirty minutes both dragged and flew. Kurt was in a panic. What the hell had he gotten himself into? And what was he going to wear?

Twenty nine minutes and fifty seconds later, Kurt was standing outside Blaine's door. He had chosen a pair of yoga pants which were both loose and clingy in just the right places, a tank top and a soft cotton pullover with a wide neckline, not really knowing what to expect. He raised his hand to knock, and hesitated momentarily out of nerves. Shaking it off, he reached the rest of the way to knock lightly upon the door.

 _Knock knock knock_

The door opened almost immediately, as if Blaine had been standing at the door waiting for him. He graced Kurt with an easy, open smile. "Hi, Kurt," he greeted, his voice a little lower and softer than when they'd spoken before. Blaine had changed his clothes, too, opting for a fitted t-shirt and a comfortable-looking pair of casual pants. His feet were bare. "Come on in," he encouraged, stepping aside to let Kurt enter and guiding him with a gentle touch to the small of his back.

Kurt looked around the apartment briefly, but the lights were rather low, so he couldn't make out much detail. Off to one side, he saw a large, padded massage table. Nearby, several candles were flickering softly. Instrumental music lilted through the apartment, but Kurt couldn't see the exact source. Blaine had basically re-created a spa atmosphere in his tiny, fifth-floor Midtown apartment.

"You like it?" Blaine's soft voice behind him startled Kurt a bit. "I try to create a calm, soothing environment. A relaxed mind promotes a relaxed body, right?"

"It's nice," Kurt agreed, the tone of his own voice having reflexively quietened to match Blaine's. He wondered if it was part of Blaine's training to speak that way.

Blaine led him over towards the table and leaned against it, facing him. "You still okay with this?" he asked first. Kurt nodded his assent. "Have you ever had a professional massage before?" Kurt shook his head. Blaine smiled softly. "Okay. We're going to make this nice and easy for you. I'll work on your upper body – just your back, neck, shoulders and arms. It's easiest for me if you aren't wearing a shirt, but if you aren't comfortable with that, you can leave your tank top on. I won't go below your waistline, so your pants can just stay on. They look nice and comfy, so they'll be perfect." Kurt blushed, but let Blaine continue.

"This will be a nice, smooth, relaxing massage. I'll work a little on that spot on your neck, but nothing too deep. Nothing I do should hurt. If it hurts, you raise your arm and let me know, okay?" Kurt nodded. "Also, if I do anything you don't like, just raise your arm. You won't offend me. This is all about making you comfortable and relaxed, okay?" he finished with a smile. Kurt might have been annoyed at the almost patronizing tone from anyone else, but from Blaine, it simply sounded like he was trying to put Kurt at ease, and it was charming and endearing.

He was in so much trouble.

"Shall we get started?" Blaine asked.

"Okay," Kurt replied, feeling the need to say _something_ instead of just nodding along.

"Great, Kurt," Blaine said, pushing off of the table and turning to pull back the top sheet. "Have you decided what you want to do about your shirt?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, um…" Kurt paused, and then answered, "I can take it off if that is what works best. That's fine," he said with more confidence than he felt.

"Perfect," Blaine replied. "I'll step into the other room for a moment to give you your privacy. You can leave your clothes over here," he indicated a nearby chair, "and lie on the table on your stomach. You can cover with the sheet if you're chilly. I'll be back in a moment," he placed a hand on Kurt's shoulder briefly, smiled, and stepped away.

Kurt took a deep breath, then removed his pullover and tank, folding them neatly before placing them on the chair. He quickly put his hands to his hair to fix any damage that may have been done. As a last thought, he toed off his shoes and tucked them under the chair, as well. With nothing else left to do, he got himself situated on the table, lying on his stomach with his arms folded and his chin on his hands. His leg started to bounce nervously, and he couldn't tell if he wanted Blaine to hurry up and come back or if he wanted to bolt back to his own apartment and lock the door.

The choice was taken from him seconds later when Blaine returned. "Hi," he said softly.

"Hi," Kurt responded, smiling and willing his twitchy leg to be still. Blaine approached him cautiously, seeming to sense Kurt's anxiety.

"You okay?" he asked, tilting his head and looking Kurt in the eyes. He hadn't looked past Kurt's face, which Kurt found reassuring. Blaine wasn't some letch who was trying to take advantage of him. He was a professional, and while this was an intensely personal situation, he didn't make Kurt uncomfortable at all.

"Yeah, just a little nervous," Kurt admitted.

"That's understandable," Blaine said reassuringly. "It's always weird the first time you do this. I'll take good care of you, though."

Kurt smirked. "You know, for someone who isn't prostitute, you say a lot of prostitute-y things," he remarked.

"What?"

"It's always weird the first time you do this? I'll take good care of you?" Kurt mimicked Blaine's words back to him in an exaggeratedly low, seductive tone.

"Oh, my god," Blaine said, rolling his eyes. He walked over to Kurt and began adjusting the sheet a bit. "Maybe you just need to get your mind out of the gutter," he teased.

"Whatever you say, Blaine," Kurt drawled, finding the banter to be incredibly helpful at alleviating his anxiety.

"Okay, okay," Blaine said, his quiet, soft tone returning as he got things back on track. "Now," he said, his hands touching Kurt's upper arms and slipping towards his elbows, "I'm just going to have you move your arms to your sides, all right?" he asked, guiding Kurt to slide his hands out from under his head. He arranged Kurt's arms to lie straight at his sides, then grabbed a small pillow from somewhere and helped Kurt lift his head. He placed the pillow underneath and Kurt then rested his head back down, facing sideways so he could see Blaine. "There we go," Blaine soothed. "Shall we begin?"

Kurt nodded and watched Blaine pour what appeared to be an oil of some sort onto his hands from a small bottle. "This is a body oil that will help my hands move smoothly. It's an apricot and peppermint blend – I find it's a lot lighter than some of the floral oils out there, and doesn't leave as much of a residual smell. Plus, it's good for your skin, too," he said, rubbing his hands together to warm the substance.

The first touch was to Kurt's shoulder blades. Blaine's hands were warm, but not sweaty (thank goodness). They felt strong, as Kurt imagined the hands of a massage therapist would be, but supple. He started with easy, circular strokes, working the oil into Kurt's skin and warming him up, gradually increasing the pressure every couple of strokes. "It's okay if you close your eyes," Blaine was saying in his calm, soothing voice as he rubbed his fingers in broad circles across the center of Kurt's back. "It's okay if you fall asleep a little, too. That happens. Just relax and let me make you feel good."

At the last sentence, Kurt raised his head and looked pointedly over his shoulder at Blaine, who caught on and huffed out a laugh. "Okay, that time I heard it, too."

Kurt grinned in a self-congratulatory way and returned his head to the pillow. Within moments, his eyes fluttered closed.

Blaine's hands were heavenly. He worked up and down Kurt's back for a few moments, then glided up to his neck. He quickly found the spot that had been giving Kurt trouble earlier. He moved one hand to the place where Kurt's neck met his shoulder, and kept the other warm and heavy on Kurt's neck, rubbing the spot firmly with his thumb, slowly going deeper and deeper but never really pressing too hard. Kurt could feel his head wobble with the motion, but found that he really didn't care.

Having worked on that spot to his satisfaction, apparently, Blaine moved on, returning both of his hands to Kurt's neck and gently massaging with his fingertips, scooting up just past the base of Kurt's hairline and then back down again before repeating the pattern. Kurt's neck was always one of his most sensitive spots, and before he knew it, certain part of his lower body was showing appreciation for the attention.

Crap.

Kurt instantly tensed up. This was not happening. No, this was _not_ …

"Kurt, is everything all right?" Blaine asked, his hands moving to a spot between Kurt's shoulder blades and going still.

"Mmm-hmm," Kurt answered, his voice strained.

"Because you got sort of tense on me all of a sudden and I…"

Kurt shifted his hips involuntarily, but the movement was not unnoticed by Blaine.

"Oh, Kurt," Blaine admonished, sliding his hands to Kurt's shoulders and squeezing lightly as he realized the source of Kurt's discomfort. "Don't worry about that. It happens all the time."

"Just kill me now," Kurt grumbled into the pillow, having moved his head so he was face down.

"Come on," Blaine said quietly, taking Kurt's head in his hands and turning it to the side once more. "Seriously, it's fine. Just calm down. We'll take a moment. Listen to the music, and focus on your breathing. Then we'll keep going. Once you relax, it'll go away and you'll be fine. I promise. It's no big deal."

Blaine returned his right hand to rest in the space between Kurt's shoulder blades and held it still there. He didn't exert any pressure to make Kurt feel like he was being held down. He just let it rest there. The gentle weight and warmth made Kurt feel grounded, and with a few deep breaths, he began to relax again (and his little _problem_ receded, too).

"That's it," Blaine soothed, returning to his ministrations when he felt the tension leave Kurt's body.

After that small hiccup, the rest was pure bliss. Kurt had never felt so pampered. Blaine's hands were magical, he decided, as he alternated between firm rubs and lighter touches. Kurt was hopeful that the wasn't actually making the tiny sounds he heard when Blaine worked his way down his arms, stopping to massage each finger individually before returning his then completely lax arms to the table.

He felt the heel of Blaine's palm as it worked circles into the small of his back just above his waistline. He giggled when Blaine found the ticklish spot on his side, barely hearing the whispered "Sorry" that Blaine offered as he moved on.

All too soon, the touches became lighter and lighter, with Blaine running his fingers in slow, gentle strokes from the base of Kurt's neck to the base of his spine. There was one last feather-light pass, and then Blaine's hands were flat on his back again – one in the center of his back and the other in the dip above his waistline. The warmth seemed to radiate out from those hands into every muscle and nerve, surrounding Kurt with safety and contentment. Gradually, the hands lifted, and Kurt felt the sheet being drawn up to cover him. Blaine's fingertips softly brushed over the sheet across his shoulders and down his arms to his fingertips, then they were gone.

Kurt's eyes had been closed for a while, and his breathing had become shallow and even. He'd never been this relaxed in his life. He heard himself give a little whimper when he realized Blaine's hands were no longer upon him. The thought occurred to him that he should get up.

He tried to shift but instantly Blaine's hand on the back of his head. "Shh, Kurt," Blaine whispered. "Don't try to get up right away. Just stay there for a little while." The hand stroked his head softly once, twice, the retreated, and Kurt drifted off to the quiet music playing in the background.

xoxoxo

Kurt blinked his eyes open. He felt calm, and peaceful, and limp. He squinted as his vision tried to focus, then he remembered where he was. He was at Blaine's. Blaine had given him a massage – possibly the best massage in the history of the freaking world, if anyone was asking, but whatever.

He tilted his head slightly on the pillow and his gaze landed on Blaine, who was seated in a chair he had drawn up next to the head of the table, looking at Kurt with a fond smile on his face. "Hi," Kurt said, his voice a little rough.

"Hey there," Blaine answered, his voice still smooth and low. "How do you feel?"

Kurt took in a deep breath through his nose and stretched underneath the sheet. "Amazing," he answered, drawing the word out in his sleepy haze.

Blaine chuckled quietly. "Good. I'm glad you enjoyed it." He rose from the chair and came to stand beside Kurt. "You ready to sit up?"

Kurt nodded and went to turn over, wondering why Blaine was making such a big deal about him sitting up. When he tried to prop himself up on his arm and it slipped out from under him, he was grateful that Blaine was there to catch him. "Easy," he cooed. "It takes more out of you than you know," he said, answering the question before Kurt could ask.

"Here, I thought you might want this," he held out a soft white robe to Kurt and started easing him into it before Kurt could even respond. "Would you like some water or something?" he asked, eyeing Kurt carefully to make sure he was okay in his now upright position.

Kurt took him up on the offer of the water and gratefully sipped from the glass Blaine handed to him. Blaine took a seat next to him on the table on top of the now rumpled sheet. It suddenly occurred to Kurt that he'd fallen asleep and he had no idea what time it was. "Um," he began warily, "I fell asleep, didn't I?"

"Mmm-hmm," Blaine answered with a self-satisfied smile.

"Ugh, I'm sorry. How long?" he asked, dropping his head in embarrassment.

"No worries, Kurt. Like I said, it happens a lot. You were only out for about fifteen minutes. You're fine." Blaine reached over, tilting Kurt's chin up and towards him. "It's okay. It just means that I did my job and got you to relax. I take it as the highest of compliments."

They sat quietly for a few moments as Blaine let Kurt come back up from his state of relaxation. Kurt felt himself beginning to awaken a bit more, and he sighed contentedly. "You really are very good at your job, Blaine," he complimented.

"Thank you. I enjoy it. I was always a very…tactile person, I guess, and I like helping people. This seemed like a good way to put both of those things to use."

"I'd say it's a very good way. There was a part there in the middle when you did my arms – I think if I'd had the power of speech, I would have proposed," Kurt said, nudging Blaine next to him and flushing at his boldness.

Blaine shrugged and replied, "You wouldn't be the first."

"What?" Kurt exclaimed, turning slightly to face Blaine.

"Mrs. Moskowitz," he whispered conspiratorially, a proud grin lighting up his face.

"No!"

"Yep. Two weeks ago." He laughed at Kurt's mock look of horror. "She has bursitis in her shoulder. I worked on it for her and she said it was the best it had felt in years. Offered to marry me on the spot."

"I hope you let her down easy," Kurt said, dramatically laying his hand on Blaine's arm.

"The wedding's next Saturday," Blaine answered, clasping his hands over his heart and gazing ahead with a dreamy look in his eye.

"Darn," Kurt sighed. "And here I was going to ask you to dinner tomorrow night."

Blaine's head snapped to the side to look at Kurt. "Really?" he asked, all hint of their teasing game gone.

Kurt gave him a shy, small smile. "Um, yes?" he said, making it more of a question than a declaration.

Blaine moved his hand to cover Kurt's where it lay on the table between them. "I'd love to go to dinner with you, Kurt." Kurt turned his hand over and laced their fingers together, looking down at their intertwined hands and then back up at Blaine. The flickering light from the candles in the apartment made his eyes sparkle. Blaine shifted a little closer and said quietly, "I really want to kiss you right now. Is that okay?"

Kurt thought his heart was going to pound out of his chest. "Well, I'm currently in your apartment, late at night, half-naked under this robe and you just spent the last hour with your hands all over me, so I think a kiss would be all right."

Blaine blanched and pulled back. "Kurt, I'm sorry. If that's out of line or if I'm making you uncomfortable, I – mmph."

His rambling was cut off by Kurt's lips on his. Kurt couldn't help himself. This gorgeous, smart, kind, charming (did he mention gorgeous) man before him was just too good to resist.

The kiss was brief, but sweet and tender. They parted, but stayed close, looking into one another's eyes.

"Do you kiss all the guys you give massages to?" Kurt asked coyly, his fingers toying with a curl at the nape of Blaine's neck, where his hand had somehow ended up during their kiss.

"Only the cute ones who think I'm easy," Blaine retorted, pressing another quick kiss to the corner of Kurt's mouth.

"Hmm, good to know. I hate to be a homewrecker, but I'll have to insist you break it off with Mrs. Moskowitz," Kurt continued, resting his head on Blaine's shoulder and humming contentedly as Blaine began rubbing lazy circles on his back through the robe.

"She'll get by. She's been married six times. I don't think she'll miss me. Besides, I caught her sneaking a peek at the pizza guy's butt the other day."

When Kurt didn't come back with a snappy reply, Blaine glanced down at the man who was now leaning heavily on him. Kurt's eyes were closed, and he nuzzled into the crook of Blaine's neck in an attempt to get comfortable.

Blaine looked fondly at him then patted his back lightly. "Come on, Sleeping Beauty," he whispered, helping Kurt to slide off the table and holding him up as they shuffled toward the door. "Time for you to get some rest." He managed to collect Kurt's clothing and shoes from the chair and his keys from the table where he'd deposited them upon his arrival. He walked him across the hall, maneuvering with one arm wrapped around Kurt's waist as he opened Kurt's door and led him to the bedroom.

He sat Kurt on the bed and removed his robe, helping him to slip beneath the covers before tucking the blankets around him. He bent down and pressed a tender kiss to Kurt's forehead, then turned to go. He was stopped by a delicate touch to his wrist.

"Good night, Blaine," Kurt's sleepy voice called out.

"Good night, Kurt," Blaine answered quietly, lifting Kurt's hand to his lips and kissing it. He placed Kurt's hand on the bed and went back to his own apartment for the night.

Kurt slept soundly for the first time in months, dreaming of warm hands and soft words, happy and content. It looked like his dating hiatus was finally over.

 _A/N: I wasn't planning to post this until tomorrow night, but I didn't feel like waiting. We writers get to be a little capricious, right? Thanks so much for reading. I really, truly appreciate it more than you know. Chapter title is courtesy of Bon Jovi – you know, that American group who sang that song that one time…kidding again! Be well, and be kind to one another._


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